


Dissolution

by mithrel



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Blanket Permission, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, M/M, Podfic Welcome, Transporter Malfunction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-24
Updated: 2009-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-11 01:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A transporter accident splits Spock into his human and Vulcan halves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dissolution

Kirk waited in the transporter room for the away team. It had been a routine survey mission, and there was no reason to suspect anything would go wrong. He should be in bed–he had his shift in a few hours–but he couldn’t sleep.

The first of the survey team beamed up, with their sample cases, then the second set. Only Spock left now.

As the column of energy appeared, there was a sudden klaxon. “What’s happening?” he demanded.

“I don’t know!” the technician responded. “The signal’s breaking up! I need to boost the matter gain!”

While he frantically worked the controls, Kirk’s eyes remained riveted on the transporter pad. The column shivered, winked out, then reappeared as two…and finally solidified.

Kirk began to run forward, but stopped short at the sight of the two strangers standing on the transporter pad. No–not quite strangers. One was obviously Spock, but he looked…different somehow, in a way he couldn’t place. The other, however, was someone Kirk had never seen before. A human man about his own age, with slightly wavy black hair and brown eyes, in a blue Science tunic.

“What the–?”

The human turned to Spock and went white. “Holy shit!”

“Fascinating.” Spock turned to him. “Captain, I believe something rather odd has happened–”

“Odd? _Odd?!_ ” the human shrieked. “You goddamn unemotional bastard, I’ve been _split!_ ”

“What?”

“As he says, Captain, there appears to have been a transporter malfunction–”

“Really?! You don’t say. I hadn’t noticed,” the human cut him off again. He turned to Kirk. “Just what do you intend to do about this, Captain?"

“I–” he stopped, unsure how to continue.

Just then the comm beeped. Kirk hit it. “Captain, there’s something wrong with the transporter!”

“I can see that, Scotty, kinda busy right now, tell me later.”

“But, Captain–”

Kirk didn’t answer. He’d already cut the connection.

“Oh _God_ , this can’t be happening, I must be having a nightmare!” The human had stepped down off the transporter pad and started pacing. “Split, split in half, I can’t believe this, what am I going to do, what am I going to _do?!_ ” His voice rose in pitch and volume until by the end of it he was shrieking again. He grabbed Kirk by the shoulders and shook him. “ _You’ve got to help me, Jim!_ ”

By this point Kirk was completely out of his depth. He had no clue what to do about the hysterical man in front of him.

Fortunately, Spock did. Calmly stepping off the transporter pad, he gripped the juncture of the man’s neck and shoulder, and he slumped into Kirk’s arms. Kirk eased him down onto the floor, and tucked his head between his legs.

“All right, several problems here. First off, who is he?” he asked Spock.

“He is me, Captain.”

“What? That’s impossible.” _I mean, maybe not, he did know my name. And I did meet another Spock, but still…_ “He’s human,” he completed the thought out loud.

“Need I remind you, Captain, that I am half human?” He paused. “Or at least, I was.”

Kirk rubbed his eyes. He was getting a headache. “Just what the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“I believe a malfunction in the transporter has separated me into my human and Vulcan halves.”

“Is that even _possible?!_ ”

“I suggest you ask Mr. Scott,” he replied imperturbably.

“What? Oh, yeah.” He went back over to the comm. “Scotty, what happened?”

“Some sort of fault in the rematerialization circuit, Captain! I don’ know what went wrong! Is everythin’ alright?”

Kirk looked around the transporter room. “More or less. Can you fix it?”

“Oh, aye, probably, but I’ll need to take the transporter offline for awhile to figure out what happened.”

“How long?” he asked sharply.

“Dunno exactly. A week, maybe more.”

“A _week?!_ ” Kirk burst out.

“Aye, unless you want another accident.”

“No, no, fine, take the week,” Kirk sighed. There were four hundred crewmen on the _Enterprise_. He didn’t need that number doubled.

“Aye, sir.”

“Dammit,” he muttered, as he closed the connection. “What _did_ happen here?” he asked the transporter tech.

“Uh,” the man swallowed, then continued. “I’m not sure, sir. As Mr. Spock was materializing, the signal started fluctuating. I managed to keep from losing the signal entirely, but,” he nodded to where the Vulcan Spock stood in his habitual pose, hands behind his back, and the slumped figure on the floor.

“OK, fine.” He turned to the Vulcan. “Scotty’s fixing the transporter, the next order of business is to get him to Sickbay.”

“I quite agree.” And he simply picked up the human and carried him out of the transporter room. Kirk followed.

***

Kirk preceded Spock into Sickbay. McCoy bustled over as Spock entered. “Jim? What happened? Never mind, get him on a biobed.”

As McCoy ran the tricorder over him, he asked, “Who is he?”

“That’s Spock,” he said, dreading the conversation that comment would cause.

“What?” McCoy looked up, irritated. “Not a very good joke, Jim, anyone can see he’s as human as you or me.”

“Nevertheless, Dr. McCoy, he is Spock,” the Vulcan Spock corroborated his story.

“Well, who are you, then?” McCoy shot at him, taking the human Spock’s pulse manually, because he was stubborn, and didn’t entirely trust machines.

“I am also Spock.”

“How can there be two of you?” McCoy snapped.

“Transporter accident,” Kirk explained.

“I _knew_ those things weren’t safe! Why didn’t you tell me that in the first damned place? No, never mind, just let me figure out what’s wrong with him.”

“Will he be OK?” Kirk asked after a moment of letting McCoy work.

“Sure. He’s in shock, but that’s easily treated. I can’t help wondering why he’s unconscious though.”

“Spock neck-pinched him,” Kirk explained.

“He was hysterical,” Spock put in. “He should regain consciousness shortly.”

Sure enough, the man was already stirring, moaning softly.

“How are you going to put him back together?” McCoy demanded.

“Hm, that’s a question,” Kirk said, thinking a bit. “I’ll have to talk to Scotty.”

“ _Can_ you put him back together?” McCoy wanted to know.

“Oh, God, you have to, I can’t live like this!” The human Spock suddenly sat bolt upright on the bed.

“Easy,” McCoy said, laying a hand on his shoulder and pushing him back down.

He lay back down, reluctantly. “You have to fix this, you can’t leave me like this, please!”

“Calm down,” McCoy said.

“ _Calm down?!_ I’ve been split in half and you want me to _calm down?!_ Do you have _any idea_ …no of course not, how could you? _I can’t stay like this!_ ”

McCoy quietly brought out a hypospray and pressed it to his neck. He continued talking for a few moments. “I can’t…no…split in half…” before the sedative took effect.

McCoy looked at the Vulcan Spock, who had ignored the whole thing, and betrayed no sign of embarrassment at his other half’s behavior.

“Well, he’s healthy enough, considering. Now you, Commander,” he said, advancing on Spock.

“I assure you, Dr. McCoy, I do not require–”

“Just who’s CMO here anyway? Nothing like this has ever happened before, and I want to make damned sure _both_ of you are all right! I need to run some psych tests, too.”

Spock did not sigh. He did not raise an eyebrow. His lips did not even twitch in irritation. He merely nodded, and sat down on another biobed.

“I’m going to talk to Scotty,” Kirk said, and fled, leaving the bizarre scene behind him.

***

Kirk sat on the bridge, deep in thought. They still had no transporters, and when he’d gone to talk to Scotty about reintegrating Spock, the engineer had been uncertain.

“I dunno, Captain. I could maybe use the transporter to get Spock back the way he was. If I feed in his old pattern and then beam them both into the matter stream I might be able to use the pattern to reintegrate him.”

“What are the odds?”

Scotty looked away from him. “Uh…maybe fifty-fifty?” he hazarded.

“That’s _it?_ ”

“Nothing like this has ever happened before! I’ve got no idea if it’ll work!”

“And if it doesn’t?” Kirk demanded. “What happens to Spock?”

Scotty shrugged, and looked at the floor for a moment, before meeting his eyes again. “He might just rematerialize like he is now, as two people. Or,” he stopped, swallowed, continued. “Or we might lose the pattern.”

“I can’t let him take that risk!”

“Permission to speak freely, sir?”

“Granted,” Kirk replied, wondering what he was going to say.

“Spock’s an adult. He knew the risks when he enlisted. And it’s his life. Shouldn’t that be his decision?”

Kirk paused. “You’re absolutely right, Scotty. I stand corrected. See what you can do. And if it doesn’t work–” his voice cracked. Embarrassed, he coughed and continued. “If it doesn’t work I’ll just have to find myself another first officer.”

“Aye sir.”

Kirk looked over at Spock, currently absorbed in his viewer. He had figured out what was different about him, in the three days since the transporter accident. He no longer showed _any_ emotion, not the slightest bit. He still performed his duties admirably, but he was…colder. More distant. Alien.

Kirk stopped at that thought. He’d never thought of Spock as an alien before, and not only because the term had been largely discarded because of its pejorative connotation, replaced with “extraterrestrial” (although there were people who objected to that as too Earth-centric). He’d thought of Spock as many things–a know-it-all, a sanctimonious bastard, and an out-and-out pain in the ass–as well as, more recently, a friend and respected colleague. But never “alien.”

And Spock’s performance _was_ suffering, although Kirk was sure he was the only one who noticed. In situations that required a gut-level, instinctive response, he was hesitating fractionally. Not long enough for anyone else to notice, certainly not long enough to endanger the ship, but the hesitation was there. Undoubtedly because it was his human half who was responsible for snap decisions and without him Spock was struggling.

Everyone was walking on eggshells around him, not sure how to treat him, and no one talked to him any more than required to perform their duties.

He’d been to see the other Spock, in the quarters that had been assigned to him when McCoy had certified them both fit for duty. Kirk had expected there to be a fight about who got Spock’s quarters, but the human Spock had said he’d feel more comfortable in guest quarters. As far as Kirk knew, he hadn’t left since.

It had been awkward. The Vulcan Spock hadn’t changed much, so Kirk was able to forget, mostly, what had happened. But this man was a total stranger, and calling him “Spock” made the same sense of wrongness scream along his spine as he’d felt in the cave on Delta Vega. He’d known intellectually, perhaps even emotionally, that Spock was half-human, but being confronted so blatantly with the evidence of that fact made him uneasy. Not to mention he was much less proper than the Vulcan, even informal, and he had no trouble with human slang and idioms. Kirk supposed Spock had picked them up at the Academy, but chosen not to use them. This man did.

“I talked to Scotty. We’ll get this sorted out.” Was he actually trying to _reassure_ him? Must be something about the eyes–they were too big for his face. At least he was calmer now.

“Thank you, Jim.”

Kirk flinched. The man in front of him looked guilty. “Sorry, Captain. It must be creepy having a stranger call you by your first name.”

“It’s not that!” he protested, even though it was.

“So Mr. Scott will be able to reverse this?”

Jim shifted. “Well, actually, he said the odds were only fifty-fifty.”

“And if it doesn’t work?”

Jim shrugged uncomfortably. “We had trouble retrieving your patterns last time.”

At that, he actually looked afraid. He was trying to hide it, but he wasn’t used to concealing emotion the way Vulcans were, and it was obvious.

“Look, if anyone can fix this, it’s Scotty.”

The other man nodded. “Mr. Scott has a knack for pulling off impossible things.”

“So it’ll only be a week before you’re back to annoying everyone on board,” he joked awkwardly, aware that he was trying to convince himself as well as Spock.

He smiled then, just slightly, the first time Kirk had seen him–either of them–smile, and it was beautiful. He shook the thought off.

“Thank you, Captain.”

“No problem,” he said. “I need to get back to the bridge.”

“Of course, Captain.”

***

McCoy was writing up the medical reports from the mission to Arianis VI (quite a few people had been injured–none of them expected the native plants to be mobile, or to dislike fire) when Spock (the human Spock, and damned if he could think of him like that without the sense that there was something Wrong With the Universe) wandered into Sickbay.

He hovered near the door of his office, and if it had been anyone else but Spock, he would have called his behavior “diffident.” On the other hand, this was the human half of Spock, the one that was constantly suppressed, so God only knew what he’d do.

“Something I can do for you?” he inquired.

“Yes, Doctor. I need…” he paused, something else Spock wouldn’t do, then finished in a rush, “I-need-someone-to-talk-to!”

McCoy’s eyebrows shot up. Several responses shot through his head, among them “You want to talk to _me?!_ ” “I’m a doctor, not a counselor!” and “I would, really, but the universe seems to be imploding,” but Spock looked so…lost, that he just said “What about?”

Spock sat down in the chair across from his desk. “It’s about the transporter accident.”

“I’d guessed that, but what, specifically?”

“Tomorrow the transporter will be online again, and I’ll be reintegrated.”

“Yeah.”

Spock fidgeted, then, “What if he doesn’t want to reintegrate?” he burst out.

“Who?” McCoy asked, before realizing there could only be one person he was talking about. “Sorry, stupid question. Why wouldn’t he want to?”

“All my…his… _our_ life,” he started, obviously frustrated with the imprecise pronouns, “we’ve been on the outside because we were half-human. Now he’s not. He’s got what he’s always wanted, so why should he bother with me?”

McCoy gave serious thought to how to answer. “Your mother was human, wasn’t she?”

The man across the desk from him winced, and a spasm of pain crossed his features. “Yes.”

“And you loved her?”

“ _Yes!_ ”

“Both of you?” he asked.

He stopped, and thought about it. “Yes. He did.”

“The way I see it, you’re the part that came from her. Now I know for a fact that he…you…was damn torn up when she died. He wouldn’t want to get rid of the part of him that came from her.”

“You really think so?” The look of uncertain hope in his eyes was disturbing.

“I do.”

“But what if the reintegration doesn’t work? Mr. Scott only gave us fifty-fifty odds, and if it doesn’t work we might end up lost in the matter stream!”

McCoy shuddered involuntarily, then got control of himself. “Well, I figure that’s a decision the two of you are going to have to make…whether to stay the way you are, or take your chances.”

He nodded, looking slightly calmer. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, glad that he wasn’t called on to act as a shrink more often. It was one thing to have personal matters spewed at you by a drunk colleague, when you were just as drunk. Sober counseling was a horse of a different color.

***

Jim rolled over in bed. He thought he’d heard a noise, nothing identifiable, but when he didn’t hear anything more he closed his eyes again.

And someone pulled back the covers of his bed and slid underneath them.

“The _hell?!_ Computer, lights!”

When the lights came on, he looked over to see the human Spock– _naked_ –lying next to him. There was a black robe pooled on the floor near the bed. Jim himself slept without any clothes, and he was struck speechless for a moment.

“What the–?”

“Jim,” and Spock sounded so…desperate, almost broken, and then he was burrowing his face into Jim’s neck.

Bizarre circumstances or not, he couldn’t help but respond to that. He realized Spock was _crying_ , something he’d never expected to see.

“Hey, hey, it’s OK.”

“No,” Spock said, his voice muffled. “It’s not.”

“What are you doing here?” _And why are you naked?_ He was careful to keep any accusation out of his voice.

“Tomorrow.”

 _Ah._ “You’re worried about the reintegration?”

He nodded. “I’m not sure whether I’m more worried about being reintegrated or the fact that he won’t want to.”

“Why wouldn’t he want to?”

“He got what he wanted. He’s not human anymore.” The bitterness in Spock’s voice was palpable, and Jim stroked his back, trying not to think too hard about what he was doing. Spock didn’t need that right now.

“Yeah, maybe not, but he needs you.”

Spock laughed, a harsh bark that had Jim flinching. “I’m serious! He’s been hesitating whenever a split-second decision needs to be made.”

“Really?” The desperate hope in his eyes would be funny if it wasn’t so heartbreaking.

“Really. He’ll want to reintegrate, don’t worry.”

“I don’t know if I want to, though. I can’t cope on my own, but…” He fixed Jim with a fierce look. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to not be able to do anything, no matter how much you might want it, forced to stay silent, ignored, despised…”

And he suddenly buried his face in Jim’s shoulder again, kissing the juncture of his neck and shoulder.

 _Whoa._ Jim pulled him up again. “Spock, what–?”

“Please, Jim. I need this. Tomorrow I’ll either be lost in the transporter beam or suppressed again. This is the only chance I’ll get.”

Jim had never considered having sex with his first. Okay, he was lying, he had considered it, ever since the mind meld with the older Spock had let some memories through. But he never thought he’d get the opportunity.

 _I can’t do this! I’d be taking advantage of him. But he wants it. He_ thinks _he wants it. He’s not used to acting on his own, he’s got no filter. You’re a starship captain, dammit, act like one!_

But Spock had moved down to circle his nipple with his tongue, and Jim stopped thinking.

He was moving on instinct, lapping at his chest, tweaking the other nipple with his fingers, and then switching. Jim arched up. He’d forgotten what it was like to do this; he hadn’t had sex since they shipped out again except for the occasional one-night-stand on shoreleave.

Spock was lapping his way down the center of his chest now, dipping his tongue into his navel, and finally, _finally_ his mouth was on Jim’s cock.

He’d definitely had better blowjobs–not surprisingly, since he was sure this was the first time Spock had done this. But he learned fast what made Jim squirm, pressing at the vein on the underside, pulling back to mouth at the tip, and Jim was doing his best not to thrust up into him, fisting his hands in the sheets to keep from grabbing his hair. He was close, and he tried to warn him. “Spock…”

Too late. He thrust up into him, coming down his throat, and Spock choked a bit, but managed to take it. Jim pulled him up to lie next to him. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine.” And indeed, he was out of breath, but seemed alright.

Jim set about returning the favor. It was different than he’d imagined. Spock was the same temperature as he was, and he tasted the same as every other human Jim had sucked off. He was almost disappointed. But Spock was more responsive than he’d ever expected him to be, moaning and fisting his hands in his hair, so he got over it quickly.

Jim had no trouble taking it when Spock came, and when he had, he pulled him in for a kiss, the first time tonight they’d done so.

Spock at least knew how to kiss–it made sense, since he and Uhura had that thing about a year ago.

Spock moved away from him, reaching for the robe on the floor.

“Hey, don’t go yet,” Jim said, grasping his wrist. _Boy, you better hope_ that _never gets out, or your reputation will be ruined._

Spock looked at him hesitantly. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

Spock smiled again. Jim reflected that he was going to miss that smile after the reintegration. Spock spooned up behind him, and Jim tried not to think about how nice it was.

***

When he woke up, Spock was gone. He was disappointed, but not surprised. He got up, took a shower and dressed, then headed to the transporter room.

Both Spocks were there, as well as Scotty and McCoy. He didn’t have a chance to say anything to the human Spock about what happened. All he said was “Good luck.”

The Vulcan Spock nodded, and the human one smiled. They stepped onto the transporter pad, and dematerialized. The two patterns shimmered for a moment, flickered…and merged.

“I think that’s done it,” Scotty said. “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

When Spock rematerialized, he looked the same as ever. He stumbled, and clutched his head. McCoy was at his side in a second. “You OK?”

“Yes, Doctor, merely disoriented. I have two separate sets of memories for the past week.”

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit! He’ll_ know! _Of course he’ll know, you idiot, it happened to_ him! The thought of Spock as he was now knowing what they’d done was enough to make him want to sit down.

McCoy was talking. “You better come down to Sickbay. I want to give you a complete physical and the full battery of psych tests, to make sure there are no ill effects.”

Spock drew himself up. “I assure you, Doctor…”

“We have this argument every time you’re sick, and every time you lose.”

“Go with him, Spock. I can manage without you for one day,” Jim said, thankful for the reprieve.

Spock sighed slightly. “Very well, Doctor. Run your tests.”

As they headed out of the transporter room, Jim wondered how he was going to deal with this.

***

He hadn’t seen Spock except on the bridge for three days, and he was finally beginning to relax when the door to his quarters buzzed.

“Come,” he said, returning to the thrice-damned report he was writing up for Starfleet on the incident–with certain details left out that the brass didn’t need to trouble themselves about.

“Captain.”

The PADD clattered to the desk at the calm voice, and Jim looked up to see Spock standing near the door, his hands locked behind his back in his customary pose.

“Uh…what can I do for you, Spock?”

Spock shifted, almost imperceptibly, but Jim noticed. “Captain, I must apologize for the behavior of my human self four days ago.”

Jim winced. “Don’t worry about it, Spock.”

Spock raised an eyebrow. “I am Vulcan. We do not ‘worry.’”

 _Bullshit!_ “It’s an expression, Spock. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“On the contrary, Captain, sexual assault is a court-martial offense.”

 _Sexual…_ He got up, coming around the desk to emphasize his point. “Spock, you…he didn’t _assault_ me. If anything, I took advantage of _him!_ ”

“You did not.”

 _Hmm, interesting._ “Look, I’m not pressing charges. There were extenuating circumstances.”

“Captain, I must tell you that I would never–”

Jim was abruptly fed up. “I know you’d never. But is that because you don’t want to, or because you think you shouldn’t?”

“I–” Spock stopped, unable to continue.

Jim nodded. “That’s what I thought. Look, part of you at least wanted to do that. I won’t mention it again, if that’s what you want.”

“No. It is not what I want.” The words were quiet, strained, as if Spock had had to force himself to say them.

Spock reached out and grabbed his hand, and his skin was hot. Jim reflexively interlaced their fingers.

Spock pulled back, and Jim was afraid he’d overreached himself, but he merely ran two fingers over the back of Jim’s hand, then between his fingers. Jim shivered. He had no clue how, but somehow that simple action was more erotic and intimate than anything he’d ever done with anyone before in his life.

Spock stopped, and looked at him. Jim swallowed. Spock looked subtly expectant, so he returned the gesture, running his fingers along Spock’s.

And Spock’s eyes closed, and his mouth opened, and he took a long, shuddering breath. It was the hottest thing Jim had seen.

When Jim ran his fingers over the back of Spock’s hand, he suddenly snatched his hand away.

In response to Jim’s stricken look, he said only “I am sorry. Vulcan hands are sensitive.”

Jim grinned. “I kinda figured that.” _So he was about to lose it. Have to remember that._ “So does this mean you might want to do what we did when you’re all together?”

Spock’s lips quirked. “Perhaps.”

“ _Perhaps?!_ ” Jim repeated incredulously. “After all that,” he gestured to Spock’s hand, “all you’re going to say is ‘ _perhaps_ ’ _?!_ ”

“Perhaps,” Spock repeated, and Jim heard the promise that he couldn’t voice in the word.

He grinned again. “I guess I can live with that.”


End file.
